


long shots and lost causes

by ohtheway



Category: All Time Low, Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Comedy of Errors, Crushes, Depression, Falling In Love, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Miscommunication, Rare Pairings, Tension, Trust Issues, Wordcount: 5.000-10.000, alternating pov
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-03
Updated: 2013-03-03
Packaged: 2017-12-04 03:35:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/706065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohtheway/pseuds/ohtheway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things aren't going to plan. </p><p>Pete's really struggling with his depression since Ashlee divorced him, and Fall Out Boy is on indefinite hiatus. Jack's got an inconsistent thing for Alex, and more than enough problems keeping his own head on straight. Alex has his own inconsistent thing with Lisa, and doesn't need another mess on top of that.</p><p>Getting involved is probably the biggest mistake Jack and Pete have ever made.</p><p>Plus they both <b>really</b> suck at intimacy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	long shots and lost causes

They hate each other. Or at least, they kind of, sort of, do. In a weird way. Pete thinks they do. But, then again, Pete thinks things that are bullshit sometimes and no one ever tells him they're bullshit until Patrick looks him in the eye and he thinks, maybe, that he was wrong and just being an idiot again.

Kind of.

The thing is, it never really should've been all that complicated, you know? It's not rocket science. Two guys down to fuck isn't even enough subject material for an album, but somehow he could fill an entire notebook of songs with how much he wants to punch Jack in the face. He's not that kind of guy, not that kind of guy at all, but he thinks about it. And then, when he's done thinking about it, he thinks about punching himself in the face, and that usually makes the guilt go away.

He's not really sure how it got to this point, and his relationship barometer is all kinds of crazy and fucked in the head, and always has been, so he can't even guess. One moment, they'd just been hanging out, the next moment they were involved in this thing that he couldn't even put a name to and kind of didn't want to, mostly because the idea of naming something as being serious always made him shudder a bit, but there's a resentment there in their thing and he doesn't know what the hell it's all about. 

But, no, _really_ , the thing is... Jack's always been fantastic. Jack's great. Beautiful, in a weird way. He'd never win any kind of handsomeness contest, probably, at least that Pete could tell, by his own measure of society's standards, but he is beautiful. 

Not that Pete really puts stock in what society thinks. Most of society really sucks. But he thinks about it a lot, just like he thinks about the bullshit that doesn't exist. He can't really stop his mind sometimes from going on these big stupid trips through ridiculous and back. It's like trying to focus a fire hose through a funnel.

Or something.

Jack's weird sexiness took him by surprise when it happened and still kind of does. Even his scruff is kind of sexy in a way that freaks Pete out. Before Jack, he really didn't _get_ the whole gay thing. Not that there was something to get. People just were or they weren't or they straddled the border or sometimes they had moments where they were like water, just going wherever. Pete never had one of those moments until Jack. There were little crushes here or there and once he'd kind of thought maybe he'd want to kiss Mikeyway, and that would be a good time. Before Jack, though, he'd never looked at a guy and wanted the guy rutting against him like some kind of beast.

First time for everything.

Except now they hate each other and it confuses him, and hurts him, and he keeps getting these impulses to be stupid about it which is probably why he's sitting on the roof of All Time Low's tour bus. Rian keeps coming outside to look up at him, and he thinks maybe he should get down, but he doesn't let Rian know that he knows that Rian's there, because that'd initiate a conversation he's not totally sure he wants to have with anyone who isn't Jack, because until Rian talks, Rian's not involved, and Pete would like to keep it that way. 

He doesn't know why talking is the point at which someone gets involved. It's one of those things that society decides, because until someone says something you can get away with murder, basically. And there he goes, thinking of society again, even when he doesn't mean to and doesn't have any real reason to whatsoever.

So he's getting away with sitting on a parked tour bus because Jack Barakat hates him, and he kind of hates him back. (At least, that's what he's decided to label the weird twinge in his gut because it's way too complicated to appropriately title and if he thinks about it too much he'll do something stupider than sit on a tour bus and be checked on by people who aren't Jack.)

It's not like he's doing it to be a petulant little kid. He doesn't want to inconvenience anybody. That's kind of why he hasn't looked down at Rian, even though he can see the drummer looking at him from the corner of his eye.

 _Go away, dude. This is not your problem. Just walk away. I will chill here._ He tries to send the vibes to Rian, to will the guy to just go away, but Rian's kind of a good person where Pete isn't a good person at all, so he knows Rian is waiting to talk to him and just, in general, really unlikely to stop checking on him anytime soon.

Pete is starting to realize that sitting on the bus is bullshit. That's probably the most annoying thing about being Pete Wentz. Sometimes you don't just think the bullshit, you actually do it, and when Patrick isn't around to tell you no, well, bullshit happens. Pete's life is full of a lot of it for this very reason. 

He needs a Patrick he can carry around for life advice or just maybe as a bullshit-o-meter. He entertains himself with fantasies of Patrick popping up out of nowhere and telling him what's going on with Jack, because he doesn't get it, or at least he thinks he doesn't, and if it's something really obvious he's going to be kind of pissed at himself for a long time about it. Jack isn't like him in that way, he's always in a good mood. Pete has a difficult time with being in a good mood, because even in a good mood he can always sense the bad mood coming up hard beneath it.

Pete thinks he should stop thinking.

It's at that point that he looks to see where Rian is, but Rian's gone, and he finds himself peeking over the edge of a bus with no one standing at it. He can hear muffled noises from inside the bus, though, so there's somebody in there. He doesn't know where Zack or Alex is.

He hates the waiting game, but not in the desperate way that he hates Jack Barakat.

  
  


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The first thing Jack hears is the last thing Jack wants to hear, because he's already well aware of the situation and it's not like someone can quietly climb onto a tour bus and also he was present when it happened. He runs fingers through his hair, perfectly content to stay in his bunk and think to himself about how much bullshit it is that Pete Wentz is sulking three and a half feet directly above his head. 

It is not to be, however, because Alex is standing at the edge of the bunks, staring at him, and something, again, is said which is the last thing he wants to hear. “Your boyfriend is on top of our bus, man.”

“He's not my boyfriend.” 

The words come out automatically. They seem to surprise Alex, which is weird because almost nothing Jack says surprises Alex anymore. He could scream something about fucking a burrito and his longtime-best-friend, sometimes-crush would just roll with it, but if he says Pete Wentz is not his boyfriend, he gets this stared-at-dumbly look, even though Jack is being totally serious. Pete Wentz is definitely not his boyfriend.

There are several reasons for this and all of them are very good reasons, especially if Jack is the one you're asking. The first reason is that Jack has a few rules, top of this list being the “no kids” rule, and Pete's a dad, which kind of freaks him out if he pauses too long to think about it. He's met Bronx. Bronx is a cute little kid (truest of stories: he's never had a kid-friend better than that little bro) but Jack's never seen himself as the type to be a dad and he really doesn't want to think about that ever being a thing that might happen. He's cool to hang with the kid, but anything else is less up for debate than his diving nude into the crowd at the next show, screaming at the top of his lungs about salmon. 

Okay, so that's not a fantastic example because enough liquor and he'd definitely do it, and there is probably not enough tequila in all of Mexico for him to be okay with some kid calling him daddy. Or even worse, some sort of weird step-dad nickname, like the kind you use when you need a term for the guy you only-sometimes-like who keeps trying to be your parent. Jack really hates that kind of thing, which is why he hates the idea of semi-adopting some kid even more than accidentally ending up with one of his own, which is how he'd always pictured it happening if it were to happen.

Even ignoring his rules, though, Jack has plenty of reasons why he and Pete aren't a couple. 

The top of _that_ list – an item which falls just barely beneath his rule about no kids (or, if he feels like really being honest with himself, is the really real top reason because Bronx isn't that bad at all) – is the fact that Ashlee's still in the picture. It wouldn't bother him so much, really, since Pete and Ashlee are not together anymore, but that's just it. They're not together anymore. Which means, every time something goes down between them Jack gets a phone call at 3 AM and is forced to play pacifier while worrying himself ridiculous over what kinds of drugs Pete Wentz has access to at 3 AM on a Tuesday.

It is not a good time. He kind of hates it with a white hot passion. But hearing Pete cry does something weird to him, and it's not like he can hang up on a friend, so he does it.

Every time.

And it happens a lot, because Bronx is in the picture, and Ashlee is kind of a selfish person who one day decided that she didn't care enough about Pete's feelings to be delicate with him anymore. Jack has a big problem with her because of that, which is weird because he is used to being the selfish one that can't commit to anything.

A Fall Out Boy lyric pops into his head and he very suddenly wants to be anywhere but three and a half feet under Pete Wentz, because identifying with Pete Wentz when you're trying to avoid Pete Wentz is a very bad strategy if you wish to continue avoiding Pete Wentz. Jack finds himself muttering, “be it heart, or hospital”, and Alex is still staring at him and he is already having what amounts as A Very Bad Evening and the sun only just started setting like half an hour ago.

There's a show in two hours and he really doesn't want to leave the bus, but there's probably some semi-important reason to leave the bus coming up very soon, and he wonders if Pete Wentz'll still be up there whenever the other guys finally drag him out. 

And then he's thinking about what it might mean if Pete Wentz _isn't_ on top of their bus, and the type of bullshit Pete Wentz does when he's being really stupid and not (relatively) safely located on top of a parked bus. And then Jack's very not okay at all, because he has a show in two hours and if Pete gets his hands on something there'll be nothing he can do to prevent it.

All of a sudden, he finds himself very anti Avoiding Pete Wentz. He also kind of hates him for it, but thinks it's better if he hates Pete to his face because at least then he doesn't have to worry about what Pete is doing. So he gets up, ignores Alex's satisfactory look, and heads out of the bus, bypassing Rian who is sitting at the kitchen table looking concerned in the way that neither he or Alex managed to. Jack knows exactly what Rian is panicky about, because Rian is a good guy who cares about others even if he's having too many feelings of his own at the time. 

He really kind of admires Rian for it, and briefly wishes it were someone like Rian who had gotten tangled up in with Pete Wentz, because he neither has the patience nor the altruism that Pete Wentz deserves and it's hard not to be angry at himself for it.

  
  


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Just as Pete is thinking maybe he's kind of a dumbass, which honestly is not all that uncommon of a thought – especially since Ashlee dumped him and he can't seem to get his shit together again - he hears something down below that does not at all sound like the drummer that kept checking on him. He starts thinking he should turn his head just to check, even if it means maybe finding Alex or Zack looking at him, when he hears the sound of someone climbing the ladder and figures it's pointless since whoever it is is about to inject themselves into his reality. 

“Are you staying up here all day?”

Now there's a voice he could get used to hearing, though he wishes he didn't think dopey shit like that, because it really screws with him when he's thinking smitten things about a guy he hates. Kind of hates. Doesn't really know how he feels but labels it as hate because that's easier.

“Pete.”

Jack sounds impatient, in the way that Jack always sounds impatient when he's stressed out, like he doesn't know how to handle the stress, and for some reason the fact that Jack is probably stressed about him both calms him and sends a jagged spike of panic through every goddamn molecule of his body, and what the fuck is that all about. Stressing Jack isn't what he wanted, but it's also a sign that maybe Jack cares that he's been sitting on his bus, and these mixed feelings will kill him one day, he's sure, because he has them about everything. He sucks like that.

“Yeah?” His voice kind of comes out as this dumb croak and makes him sound like a frog. Or maybe it's that the frog in his throat has decided to do the talking for him, since he fucks shit up more often than not.

“Are you staying up here all day?” Jack repeats, and Pete finally takes a chance to look over at the guy he's having such complicated thoughts about. By the look on Jack's face, sitting on top of the bus is definitely, categorically, bullshit. He is starting to feel like maybe he's a bigger drama queen than even he thinks he is, which is impressive because he's hated himself for a really, really long time.

“I don't know,” he answers, truthfully, because he really doesn't. He doesn't even know why he thought it was a good idea to be up here in the first place. It's not like they had an argument or anything but this past week has been so fucked that Pete can't even tell who fucked it up, though he'd feel safe betting on himself because he always, always fucks everything up and that isn't even fucking news anymore.

Jack is staring at him, now, and Pete doesn't feel brave enough to look at his eyes so he kind of stares at his shoes and wishes he were someone else who could do this kind of thing without wanting to curl up in a ball and die. The fact that he has written entire albums full of music dedicated to wanting to curl up in a ball and die is just testament to how often he feels this way, and he's not even trying. It's more like his life story, and he's swallowing the words _I'm sorry for my life_ , because he realizes that they won't make sense to Jack and he'll just sound like an idiot.

Again.

“I have a show in two hours.”

He can't even make out the shift in Jack's voice or what it means and he's so goddamn bad at this that it's horrifying. It doesn't really sound impatient anymore, but has this weird taint to it that Pete is having a hard time reading because his brain isn't really cooperating and keeps trying to make him feed apologies but thankfully the frog is still in control so none of the gibberish comes dripping out of him or anything embarrassing like that.

Pete's also like two hundred percent sure that Jack is going to be done with him, very soon.

“Pete.”

He's also like four hundred percent sure that if he keeps tuning out on Jack and forgetting to even try to answer, Jack'll punch him. The other man doesn't really seem like that kind of guy, either, but Pete has been known to press more than a few buttons and really honestly believes he'd deserve it if it happened.

“Pete, tell me you're not going to do anything stupid.”

That catches his attention, because Jack doesn't sound impatient so much as he sounds like he's worried, and Pete immediately feels like an asshole for being on top of All Time Low's tour bus even though Jack didn't even yell at him about it. 

“I'm not going to do anything stupid.” Which might as well already be a lie, because he's pretty sure continuing to be on top of said bus is pretty fucking stupid of him, but what he's not sure of is how well his legs would work right now if he attempted to get off the bus, and the last place he wants to be is a hotel room because some of his stupidest bullshit gets accomplished when he's alone in a hotel room.

Jack's still watching him.

He can't even tell if Jack seems less angry or more angry, but the younger guy sits next to him and his heart does this really weird thing where he's not sure if it's skipping a beat because of the thrill that goes down his spine whenever Jack is close to him or because he's having a heart attack from the weight of the depression he can never seem to properly get out of.

“Why are you up here, anyway?”

The words _because I hate you_ don't really roll off the tongue that well, and they wouldn't even sound very honest if he tried, so he doesn't. He just kind of looks at Jack and thinks about how fond he is of the curve of Jack's nose and how much he wants to kiss it, and how neither of those things will solve the fact that Jack hates him, or that he hates Jack, and doing this whole thing is suddenly very hard.

He's pretty sure the frog in his throat has bailed on him, because he's trying to work up the nerve to speak but not even a weird ribbit is coming out. Pete doesn't know whether he should be thankful or annoyed, because how nasally his voice is annoys him on an average day and having it replaced with a frog isn't any better but rather tons worse, but Jack's waiting for an answer and his entire mind is blank other than frogs.

He looks down at his hands, curls his fingers into the frayed denim at the end of his pant leg, and wonders what the hell is going to happen now. Jack doesn't seem to be going anywhere, or pulling for an answer from him anymore, but the silence is pressure that threatens to consume him and he's suddenly itching for a pen and a notebook and almost wants to tell Jack about it. 

And then he's talking, and he does his best not to think about it too much because it'll ruin it right away and he won't be able to find his voice again.

“If I said I have no idea, would you believe me?”

“Yes,” Jack's saying, automatically, and Pete's both relieved and annoyed that the answer came so quickly.

“I thought you kind of hated me.”

There's this really weird pause from Jack, like the concept is new entirely, and Pete thinks that can't possibly be right because the cold distance between them over the past week was definitely not in his head, and it takes a lot for him to know that something was 100% definitely not just in his head, even if this moment is giving him a little bit of doubt. 

So he's 99% definitely sure it was not in his head.

  
  


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Jack rubs a hand over his chin and wonders where the fuck all the common sense went, before acknowledging that that train of thought isn't very fair to Pete. Pete's had enough reason to feel overwhelmed the past few years, and every time they see each other it seems like Pete's sense of self deteriorated even more while they were apart.

He really tries to be fair to Pete and about Pete, but there are things about him that Pete doesn't know and Jack doesn't know how to address. Like the rule about no kids, and his feelings about Ashlee. Or even worse, his feelings about Alex, which come and go based entirely upon how fucked up Lisa is being and whether or not Alex is in an all right mental state. 

Reviewing it while he was three and a half feet under Pete Wentz, Jack started thinking that maybe he's attracted to complicated guys and it isn't really attraction but some kind of fucked up mental conditioning going on inside of his own head, and there's no way to put that into inoffensive terms.

So he sits there and gets is bearings while actually kind of hating Pete Wentz.

Their non-relationship, intimacy-based situation was not this complicated when it started, either, but it was doomed from the start and hindsight is 20/20 so Jack can see it now.

Neither one of them is particularly decent when it comes to intimate situations. Really, it's just a matter of time before something completely bombs and everything is over. Jack knows this because he learned it the hard way. He's too complicated for most people, and trying to balance that with a touring life is the definition of impossible. His band wins out, every time. And that's okay, because his friends are always there for him to fall back on. Alex saves Jack's ass from sadness every fucking time, and if he could spend his life with only one person it would be that asshole – and those are words he can't ever tell Alex because Alex is totally hetero and completely complicated.

Pete's not so lucky as him, though, and they both know it. When Pete gets down, Patrick is only there sometimes, and sometimes isn't good enough to stop 3 AM Tuesdays from happening so it's definitely not good enough to stop the sadness that creeps in when you're alone at night.

Truth be told, Jack also knows that they're not very different at all. He makes a better secret of when he gets down, and he's down less often, but he and Pete are total sluts that are total failures at sustaining intimacy. They can do one night stands and get out just fine, but trying to do a multiple night affair with a good friend is probably the stupidest thing they've ever done.

Jack at least knows that it's the stupidest he's ever done. It makes him glad he's never actually made a move on Alex. If he lost Alex the way that he's sure he's losing Pete, then Jack would feel a lot more like Pete than he already does. 

And that's terrifying. It's terrifying, because the worst thing about getting involved with Pete Wentz is not that they'd eventually fuck it up beyond repair, like they totally have done, like it totally is. That's not even close.

The worst thing about getting involved with Pete Wentz is falling in love with him.

Jack isn't totally sure when it happened, which surprises him because he can name the exact moment that he knew he had a thing for Alex. But it happened. Somewhere along the line, sweat-soaked and sated from a long night of fucking or up at 3 AM because of Ashlee's bullshit, he fell for Pete. It's a rush in his stomach like the kind he doesn't want to have, because Pete has a kid and an ex-wife and is supposed to be just a friend and they're both still fucking groupies and it's bound to turn into a fucking catastrophe. So this past week, Jack's been doing the only thing he knows _how_ to do when shit hits the fan so badly he can't even explain it to Alex.

He evades the fuck out of it.

Sitting here, talking to Pete Wentz about how it's hard to love Pete Wentz when you know it's going to end in an explosion, is just about the worst thing he could ever think up. But if he isn't here, isn't talking to Pete, then Pete will leave the roof of the bus and the thought of what that could lead to is about twenty times more adrenaline-inducing.

He takes a breath and readies those bearings that don't feel ready at all.

“Sorry, no, I don't hate you. We've been busy, man.” It's a lie. They both know it. But it'll be a comfort for Pete right now, and that's the best he can do when his insides feel like spaghetti in a blender. He gives a hesitant smile in Pete's direction, hoping it'll work. “Do you want to come to the show tonight?”

Because it might kill him if Pete doesn't stay within his line of sight.

  
  


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He isn't sure about a single thing between them, his head is clouded with so much shit, and he can't sort his own feelings from contaminating clear facts, and it's rounding up to be kind of a stupid day, the kind he would rather sleep through than deal with. It makes him want a xanax or five, as days like this tend to do to him. 

Pete forces himself to take a breath, then nods and looks up at Jack. Jack's fake smile is doing a goddamn number on him. Even though Jack is this guy he kind of hates, looking at him still makes his stomach flip because he really seriously thinks he cares about him a little too much and that he'd be all kinds of lost without him. 

He really doesn't want to think about it because Jack's been the only one helping him deal with Ashlee and the break up and handling time away from Bronx, and it's been way too much shit for him to even think of dumping on anyone, especially Patrick, who he doesn't talk to enough since the hiatus and if he starts thinking too much again things are going to go downhill.

It's probably because he was sleeping with Jack when it all finally hit him about the Ashlee situation after months of denying it, and because all of the pent up bullshit flooded out of him one night when they were post-sex naked in a hotel room in New York City, but there's something clear and aching for Jack lurking in his chest and making his heart twinge in a way that scares the shit out of him.

He's pretty sure that this is gonna kill him, one way or another. And if he doesn't find a way to learn how to stop his thoughts from churning into a cyclone, it'll kill him sooner than he expects. He draws another breath, forces past the dead frog, and fake-smiles while feeling kind of like he wants to puke. 

“Yeah, okay.”

And that's it, he has nothing else to add. Nothing else that could matter anyway. 

The sense of self loathing in his gut wells up and threatens to overtake him, telling him he's worthless and pointless, and that of course Jack doesn't want to tell him the whole truth because he's not worth it. He believes it, because he knows it's his fault for screwing something up or else Jack would be straight forward with him about it. It's not like the Lebanese man pulls punches – Jack's one of the realest people that Pete has ever known. In private, anyway.

The fucked up part of it is that even though he's being lied to, and things are royally messed up, and he just spent like three fucking hours on top of All Time Low's tour bus like a crazy idiot – who the fuck does that? – he still feels comforted by the presence of the younger musician. The insane, jagged pulses that Jack sends through every fiber of his being haven't fucking stopped since Jack sat next to him. 

Like some testament to how screwed up he is, or worse - like he's some stupid puppy that needs a master to make him feel better _._ He'd still rather be here than alone in a hotel room, thinking about Bronx and Ashlee and all the ways that he's fucked up his own life, and he knows he's in way, way over his head. Worse, he knows there's nothing he can do about it because it's too late. They're stuck like this, in a limbo that Pete got them into, and damn he hates himself.

Jack's watching him – has been watching him, since he agreed – so he rubs the back of his neck and tries to laugh. It kind of sounds like he's gargling sandpaper, but he refuses to let it show in his smile. Two can play the lying game - and Pete feels like he invented it, besides.

“I promise I'm good. Or I will be, anyway.” He watches Jack slow nod and feels some of that pressure in his stomach ease. Usually he doesn't mind the other guy trying to get a read on him, but it feels unfair, given the fact that Jack fake-smiled. All Pete wants is to get out of the cycle of his damaged thoughts. He clears his throat again because that stupid frog is still there with the sandpaper, and tries again, wanting to push past the look still kinda in Jack's eyes. 

“Let's get off the bus, anyway. I'm not trying to make some kind of fucking political statement or anything.”

“You mean you're not on strike?” Jack asks, and Pete could really, honestly, completely kiss him for the playful edge in his voice. The urge to puke is almost entirely replaced by butterflies in one fell fucking swoop. Just like that. That's all it ever fucking takes.

“Why, you wanna riot with me?” He hates that he sounds flirtatious and self-loathing all at once, as he peeks up at Jack just like that dumb puppy he's been relating himself to, but Jack's smile makes it worth every second of it, because that smile is real and now Pete's certain there are elephants involved in how his stomach's feeling.

“Totally.”

Jack stands, and then he stands, and there's this moment where they look at one another and Pete's heart does a not-so-sick-feeling flutter. As they descend the ladder, he feels a little more put into place and wonders how it is that this guy can disarm him in a millisecond when Pete always thinks of himself as a loaded gun with a sticky trigger. It's probably why he really kind of loves him.

Under it all, though, he's still pretty sure that it's going to fall apart, and that keeps him fighting elephants all the way inside the venue.


End file.
